DBH: Illuminate - Hunch
by TheShadowsmiths
Summary: VI. Connor, Hank, Vivienne, and Gavin follow up on a tip that leads to Rupert, their runaway deviant from the Nest, but during their interrogation, Connor realizes there's more going on in the pawn shop than meets the eye.


**November 11th, 2038 - 2 PM **

The car door slammed with a padded thud that echoed softly across the street, followed by the hollow clacking of oxfords on blacktop mixed with the sloshing of shallow puddles as he started toward the trailer-turned-food truck. Viv glanced away from the hockey game on the small television inside the trailer as the sound drew her attention, and she grinned from ear to ear at the boyish android as he glanced both ways before crossing the outlet. He was becoming more human by the day.

"So, does he follow you everywhere you go?" she teased as she shifted her amber-eyed gaze and tilted her head from one side to the other.

Hank groaned and shifted his weight as he rolled his head back and muttered in response, "Yeah, can't get rid of him. Follows me like a damn _poodle_."

"Aw, I think he likes you… maybe you should keep him."

"_No, thanks,_" he scoffed as he took his food as Gary handed it to him and gave the man a friendly nod, then turned and took a lean at the nearest empty table.

Lenore glanced at Connor as he redirected himself and followed them, then set down a large bottle of water and a plastic Tupperware container, which Hank eyed as he lifted the paper lid on his burger.

"You didn't order anything?"

Viv gave him a friendly smile and shook her head in reply as she peeled back the lid to reveal a cold-cut sandwich along with an assortment of bite-sized fruits and vegetables. "As much as I'd love a burger, I brought my own lunch."

"Your mommy make that for you?" he chuckled with a grin.

"Actually, I packed it myself," she replied with a smirk, leaned over the tabletop and reached for a carrot.

Hank scoffed and peeled back the paper wrapping on his food. "Who the hell has the time for that?"

"Someone who's concerned with keeping her girlish figure and staying in shape," she gestured before snapping off a chunk between her teeth.

"You know, Lieutenant," Connor chimed in, "If you don't have the time to make yourself healthier meals, I'd be more than happy to-"

"_Don't say it,_" he interrupted before he could finish the thought. "I'd rather die happy with a stomach fulla food I enjoyed goin' down, than eatin' shit I didn't like, and there ain't nothin that's gonna change my mind."

"Well then tell you what Anderson," she bargained as she dug through the fruit pile to pull out a few grapes, "You can keep your cheeseburgers, and I'll stick to my diet plan."

He grinned and chuckled as she popped a few more pieces of fruit into her mouth, took a bite of his burger and chewed in silence for several moments, then chased it down with a sip of his pineapple soda and tried to change the subject.

"So if you didn't come for a cheeseburger, why're ya here with us?"

"Can't a girl spend some time with her new partners?" she asked with an innocent shrug and a sly wink.

Hank gave her an exhausted look and frowned with a sigh. "So you're really set on this whole "getting to know you" thing, aren't ya?"

"That make you uncomfortable, Lieutenant?" she teased with a pop of her brows as she tipped her head back to sip her water.

"Hank doesn't like to talk about himself," Connor offered in observational reply, but his partners' eyes and nostrils flared in dissent.

"I never said that!" he exclaimed defensively.

The android furrowed his brow and tilted his head at the outburst. "But you deflect every time I ask you personal questions."

"Yeah, course I do," he growled under his breath, "Because my personal life is none of _your _business!"

Vivienne's laughter interrupted their bickering, and she lowered her chin and covered her mouth with a loose fist as the two men looked over at her, Connor in confusion, Hank in annoyance.

"What is it?" Connor asked first.

"Listen, sweetie," she started with a serious look. "You can't just start prodding people for personal information the moment you meet someone."

For the second the boy was quiet, and his eyes twitched as he shifted them away for a moment of deep thought, then looked back to her. "Well, why not?" The question was as innocent as it was naive.

"Because it makes people uncomfortable to let strangers get a look into their lives without knowing whether or not they can trust them."

"But isn't that how you get to know them?"

A sigh escaped her as she leaned back onto her side of the table and settled in for what she was certain would be a long discussion. "Of course it is, but you can't treat your friends like a witness in an investigation. Start with the small stuff, like hobbies and professions, and what they do for fun," she explained as the Lieutenant shook his head and continued to eat in silence. "You know… things that connect us that we can all share and love."

"You mean like family?"

Hank coughed and sputtered as he slapped a hand to his chest, popped his brows and shook his head as he lifted his drink without looking over.

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of movies or music," she backtracked with an uncomfortable laugh. "Family's not something you _ask _about. If someone wants you to know about their family, they'll tell you about them when they're ready."

"Why's that?"

When Hank's hand didn't move from the paper cup after setting it back down, the thousand-yard stare in his eyes caught her attention as he stood there and glared down at the table with a tightly clenched jaw. She knew that look, she'd seen it a thousand times before in the eyes of witnesses being taken into custody after learning a gruesome truth. Like an animal nursing its wounds, Hank was haunted by a trauma he couldn't forget even if he wanted to, and Connor had managed to pick at the one scar that hadn't yet healed.

Viv's heart sank into her gut and she lowered her tone and swallowed to relieve the tension in her throat before she answered quietly, not taking her eyes off the tired man across from her. "Because family can be _complicated_, Connor, and it's not always a pleasant conversation."

The grip on his cup loosened, and the muscles in his face relaxed as he listened carefully to her words. Without meaning to, she had managed to deconstruct his reasons for being so stand-offish, and he breathed a little easier knowing she wasn't there to _interrogate _him.

Hank's grey eyes looked up at her after a moment and she didn't have to look hard to see the gratitude in them; they screamed back at her that it was about time someone understood.

"Why wouldn't it be pleasant to talk about family?"

In unison, Hank and Viv sighed and let out loud groans of frustration followed by an annoyed "_Jesus, Connor_, you've gotta be kiddin' me" under Hank's breath as he dragged a hand down his face.

"Do you always ask so many questions?" she asked as she pressed her fingers into the corners of her eyes.

"Yep, better get used to it," Hank replied as he resumed eating.

Connor looked hurt as he lowered his head, crossed his arms and leaned on his elbows away from them. "I'm sorry, I'm just trying to understand."

Viv was about to answer him when Hank cut her off.

"Just stop while you're ahead," he recommended with a soft gesture, "Or you're gonna be bangin' your head against a brick wall for the next hour."

Instead of taking his advice, Lenore shot him a dirty look and turned her attention back to the Android.

"How old are you? When did you boot for the first time?"

Connor's eyes drifted up and to the right as he pulled up his publishing date. "About three months ago," he replied.

"And how much human interaction have you had in that time?"

He paused, blinked a few times and shook his head as his neck twitched. "I don't know… maybe a week, two weeks' worth?"

"_Two weeks_…" she repeated with a soft laugh as she raised both eyebrows and flashed him a warm smile. "Well I've had forty two years to learn that even though it shouldn't be, family can be the most complicated thing you'll ever have to deal with- so that means no matter how smart you are, no matter what kind of programming Cyberlife bestowed upon you, you _still _have a lot to learn about human behavior, alright? So just trust me on this."

Connor went quiet and swallowed the truth like the bitter pill it was. Vivienne was right. He'd been programmed to solve puzzles, but human behavior was a complexity all its own that he hadn't been programmed to understand, only to learn to understand through experience.

"Alright," he agreed as a small sigh passed between his upturned lips. "I'll take your word for it."

"See?" she insisted, gesturing to him as she looked over at Hank. "He's a smart boy, you just don't give him enough credit."

"Well, I gotta make him work for _something_," Hank's lip curled into a mocking grin as he pulled down the paper wrapper on his half-eaten burger and took another bite.

"So what about you, Lenore?" he asked with his mouth still half full but paused to swallow what was left before finishing the question. "What's your story? Why're you here?"

The woman's golden eyes passed over him while she chewed her food, and after a few moments she put down her sandwich and wiped her fingers on one of the paper napkins Hank had chosen not to use. "Honestly, between you and me…?" she paused, choosing her words carefully. "I'm just trying to help."

Hanks face contorted and he almost rolled his eyes, but sighed instead and floated his hand through the air, hoping she'd elaborate. "Well, _yeah_, what else would you be here for?"

Viv stood up straight, set back onto her heels with a sigh and flattened her palms against the tabletop as her eyes dropped to the umbrella pole through the center of it. "My boss —Special Agent Perkins— wasn't going to put me on the case to find Illuminate, _I asked _to be here- because I think we should be listening to what she has to say instead of trying to cover it up, and I'd rather we take her alive than as a pile of spare parts."

Connor felt his metaphorical stomach churn at the suggestion. He shifted his weight and folded his hands, and his LED flashed yellow a few times before settling back into solid blue, but neither of them seemed to notice.

"So then you're a plastic lover, is that it?" Hank asked in a disappointed tone, at which Viv shot him a sharp look for his racist slur.

"I had an Android once," she admitted without breaking eye contact, and he looked away uncomfortably after a few seconds. "An AX700 named Axl- he lived with me for several years taking care of the house while I was gone, cooking my meals, running my errands, the usual… but the thing is, he wasn't _just _my housekeeper. He was my _friend_."

As Viv folded her hands and set her gaze on the table, the two men fell silent- Hank's hands froze around his food and he forced down what was in his mouth but didn't reach for his drink, nor did he look away. Connor lifted his head and stood a little taller as he leaned forward and listened intently.

"Then one day…" she paused and clenched her teeth as she closed her eyes and remembered the incident. "My ex decided to take up a new hobby and ended up addicted to red ice- he started stealing money, selling my stuff… and I wasn't okay with it, so I kicked him out. He got upset when I told him to leave, got aggressive…" Viv's voice trailed off and she cleared her throat as she opened her eyes and looked at the both of them. "Then he wrapped his hands around my throat and pushed me up against a wall. Axl panicked and pushed him off me… and the cocksucker tripped and fell right down a flight of stairs, hit his head, and wound up in a coma."

The uncomfortable silence that followed seemed to block out even the background noise of traffic, construction, and rap coming from the boombox inside the Chicken Feed trailer. Connor blinked in surprise and remained silent, but Hank's brow hardened and he held his breath as he processed the weight of her ordeal. Neither of them knew what to say.

"_Jesus__,__ Viv,_" he finally breathed after about half a minute.

"I didn't want the police to take him from me, so I told him to run. I haven't seen him since. Paul's still in the hospital, they don't know if he'll ever wake up… can't say I feel bad about it though."

"How long ago was this?" he asked in a tone that was still standoffish and wrapped up what was left of his lunch.

"About seven months," she replied, to which Hank sighed and shook his head, pushed aside the paper box, and leaned over the small table on his forearms with a downcast gaze.

"I didn't tell him to step in, _he did that on his own_, and just before I told him to run I saw the terror in his eyes," she insisted, leaning in closer to him and meeting his eyes as he looked up at her. "He was scared, Hank, frozen by uncertainty and fear, I've never seen anything like it. Something in him _changed _that day, I'm telling you."

Connor had been silent for a while, just taking in the new information while Lenore bared her soul to them. Something about her story sounded familiar, but he couldn't quite place where he'd heard it before.

"So you sympathize with deviants?" he asked, cutting to the chase.

"Sympathize isn't the right word," she explained, "Some of them did some really bad things they need to be held accountable for, as any human would; all I'm saying is, we don't understand enough about them to say with certainty that they aren't individuals deserving of a chance at a _fair trial_, or a life of their own."

"But they aren't alive," he replied mechanically, even though he wasn't even sure he believed it himself anymore.

"What makes you say that?" she opposed with a disappointed chuckle.

"They're machines, everything they do is predetermined by programming."

"Are you sure about that?"

Connor paused as she called his bluff, as if he immediately wished he could take back the words.

"You said it yourself, I read it in your report- _"when a deviant is overwhelmed by irrational instructions, it experiences something similar to emotions in human beings"_, but in the end the deviant must decide for itself what it will do, with or without a directive."

"Well, yes, that's true-"

"And how do you define life… hm?" Viv tilted her chin to look over at the boy as he furrowed his brow and folded his hands. "A life is more than just living and breathing, Connor. It's the experiences you have, the decisions you make, the things you feel," she elaborated as one hand lifted to brush the tuft of stray hair out of his face with a smile. "That's what it means to truly live. If you have none of that, you're just-… _existing_."

The android's eyes followed her hand as her fingertips traced across his forehead, and he realized it was the first "human contact" he'd experienced that was gentle and kind, and not angry or demeaning.

He looked away from her and floated his gaze through empty air before looking down into the palms of his hands to consider her definition of living. The concept was too abstract for him to make sense of with his linear, logical mindset, but perhaps she had a point. He'd been lost to his thoughts long enough to feel of the weight of his existence bearing down on him, and experienced how it felt to be trapped in a cycle of day-to-day monotony as a slave. It was as far from alive as he'd ever felt; but in those moments of new discovery ー the fear, the frustration, the happiness, the sadness, the contentedness, and everything in between ー he felt whole, real, and _purposed_.

Connor's eyes took on a distant stare and his eyelids flickered gently as Viv reached into her coat's pocket to pull out her ringing phone.

"What is it, Reed?" she asked in as professional a tone as she could manage; her weight shifted from one hip to the other as she stepped back, the woman's nails drummed against the iron tabletop as she listened and shifted her eyes over Hank's shoulder. "…uh huh… Alright, we'll be there ASAP."

"Rupert was spotted across town," Connor reported before she could relay the information. "An eyewitness saw him enter a pawn shop off 17th. We should get over there before he leaves."

"Detective Reed is already there," Lenore explained as she snapped the lid over her lunch and swiped her water bottle off the table. "He's got eyes on your runaway deviant."

"Let's get movin' then," Hank ushered as he dropped his drink and what was left of his burger into the garbage can, to Connor's surprise; he had already removed himself from their conversation before the phone call, and started toward the car a few steps ahead of them.

"You don't want to take that with you?"

"Not hungry," he replied with a coldness in his tone without turning around.

* * *

**November 11th, 2038 - 2:30 PM **

The car turned down the alley across the street from their destination and rolled to a stop behind Reed's squad car parked about halfway down. Hank cut the engine and it died with a quiet sputter before he popped open the door and stepped out into the alley. Connor remained in the back seat and watched as the Lieutenant stepped in a particularly deep puddle of water that splashed up onto his jeans and flooded his shoes, and cracked a small, amused smile as Viv exited the car, making sure to avoid the puddle.

His hand reached for the door and yanked on the handle and he leaned into it with his forearm and pushed it open, reached one leg around the puddle beneath him before standing and tossing the door shut behind him, then followed them to the end of the alley where Gavin was leaning against the corner of the building with his arms and ankles crossed. He'd expected him to give them grief about being late, but for once, the man didn't have any smart-ass remarks to make. Instead, his hazel eyes watched the building with a stare so sharp it could have cut stone.

"He hasn't left yet," Gavin reported as Viv reached for her gun, hunched over and pulled back on the slide of the pistol to chamber a round.

"Good work, Detective," she commended. "You and I will scout the perimeter from the northwest exit," she explained and gestured for him to follow with her free hand as she crossed the street. "Hank, Connor- you take the front and flush him out the back."

Hank nodded as he followed, reached around his stomach and removed his gun from the holster on his left hip, chambered a round and cupped his left hand under the magazine eject; his hands floated about hip level as he looked over his shoulder at Connor, who was right on his heels.

"You're a lot quicker than I am, so I'll let you do all the running," he conferred, "Just _don't go jumpin' off any buildings this time_." The old cop grimaced as he remembered the last time he'd attempted to follow Connor on a rooftop chase and ended up dangling six stories above Detroit by one arm. "And make sure you find the stairs before you engage. Cut em' off before he can get away this time."

"Got it."

A bell chimed as he pushed the door open and stepped into the dimly lit pawn shop. From behind the counter, a young man stepped into the light from one of the darkened corners at the back of the room to greet them; but when he spotted the gun in Hank's hands he froze, slowly lifted his hands, and backed away from the counter. Connor glanced at him long enough to realize he wasn't the deviant he was looking for and continued to make his way further into the room as Hank closed the door behind them and barricaded the entrance.

The rest of the shop was empty, as far as he could tell. There were a few rounders of clothing at the front to Hank's left, and a glass display case full of small electronics and jewelry to his right where the shopkeeper stood against the wall, eyeing them warily; unfiltered light from the bare windows of the second floor illuminated the staircase and the faint sound of a radio echoed down the stairs behind him. Remembering Hank's words, he started for the counter.

"Do you need something?" the merchant asked as he stepped between him and the staircase.

"I'm with Detroit Police," he replied as Hank flashed him his badge over Connor's shoulder. "A tip came through that a wanted suspect was spotted heading into this shop about an hour ago."

The sound of something heavy hitting the floor and shuffling feet drew his attention from behind him. Connor turned to the source of the sound and braced himself against the counter just in time to avoid being smacked in the face by a box full of books as it whizzed by his head and crashed into the grandfather clock behind the counter, breaking the glass and smashing the metal chimes in a cacophony of hollow ringing. Rupert scrambled for the front door but skidded to a stop when he came face-to-face with Hank's gun trained right between his eyes.

"_NAH AH AH_\- hands up!" he warned, but instead of complying, the deviant grabbed a nearby coat rack and pulled it down on top of him. It knocked him off his feet and buried him in heavy winter coats as Rupert turned on heel and vaulted over the counter for the stairs, but one of Connor's hands shot out and grabbed him by the hood of his coat, yanking him back into a headlock over the glass countertop. The perp thrashed wildly, throwing punches and trying to slip free, but didn't manage until he reached out a foot and kicked a toaster off the wall next to the ducking shopkeeper, and smacked the Android square in the face. Connor lost his grip, his head whipped back over his heels and knocked him off balance, and he turned to brace his fall with both hands but the force of the fall dropped him to one elbow. When Hank finally managed to unearth himself from the pile of coats, he removed the radio from his hip and pushed the button as the deviant regained his bearings and bolted for the back door.

"Viv, he's headed your way!"

The warning crackled through just as the metal door burst open and rattled on its hinges, and the boy came flying into the alley in a wild panic.

"Shit-" she cursed as she raised her gun and squared her shoulders. "Don't move!"

But the deviant dipped as she fired a round over his shoulder, snapped his right hand up to smack the inside of her wrist and break her hold on the weapon, then smacked the gun out of her hand with a swipe of his left hand in the opposite direction; her firearm clattered to the ground as he followed up with another jab, which she narrowly avoided, then without warning took a heavy headbutt right to the forehead.

The alley spun as she staggered back against the brick of the building next to the shop, and slipped down the wall as Rupert sprinted down the street behind the shop building, seemingly home free.

Hearing the commotion from his hiding place a block down, Gavin peered around the corner as the perp sprinted blindly toward him, full speed ahead.

"REED, DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!" she screamed to him as he ducked back into hiding, listened for his footsteps and waited for the opportune moment, then stepped out and clotheslined the deviant, which hit the ground with a loud crack and a frightened yell.

"_FUCKING_-" Gavin yelled out a few more intensely colorful expletives as he hopped around and shook out the shooting pain in his arm from the hyperextension of his elbow, then placed one foot on the android's chest and held his gun on him while he was still reeling from hitting his head on the blacktop.

"Don't even try it, asshole!" he growled as Connor sprinted down the street and slowed to a stop a few yards away once he saw Reed had successfully stopped the deviant.

Hank stepped out the back door into the light as he knelt down to help Viv to her feet, and noticed the scrapes and the worse-for-wear look in her eyes.

"You okay?" he frowned as she braced her forearms over his to steady herself and stand up straight.

"_Fine_," she muttered under her breath as she touched the blood trickling out one corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then bent over and swiped her gun off the ground. "I'm just _pissed_."

"Hands behind your head," Reed ordered as he shifted his gun into his left hand and reached around his back with his right to fish for his cuffs.

Rupert obeyed and slowly threaded his fingers behind his head but watched him closely while he holstered his weapon and opened the cuffs, but the moment he knelt down to roll him over, the android smirked and whipped one elbow around to crack him right across the cheek and nose with all of his might. Reed's eyes flared and he spit out a mouthful of blood onto the concrete next to him and grabbed him by the collar of his coat.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!" he roared as his fist made contact with his face once, twice, three times before Connor could get between them.

"Detective, _STOP_!" he cried as he looped his arms around the man's shoulders and threw him off the perp before snatching the cuffs out of his hand with a disapproving glare. Reed rolled over and scrambled to his feet as Connor flipped the android onto his stomach, lowered his arms behind the small of his back, and locked the cuffs around his wrists.

"I had the situation under control!" he barked, holding a hand over his bleeding nose.

"_No_, you were about to waste your time and energy beating our suspect into a decommissioned scrap heap!" Connor shot back heatedly.

"Both o' you, _SHUT IT_!"

The curl in the Lieutenant's lip as he pushed past Gavin to pick the suspect up off the ground screamed of how quickly he was tiring of their bickering. "Let's just get back to the station without any more bullshit, alright?" he scolded as he shoved the deviant in the direction of his car. "Get a move on, Ash."

"I have a name," it snapped impatiently as Hank rolled his eyes and followed with a _"Yeah yeah yeah…"_

Connor leered at Detective Reed as he passed, which earned a middle finger and a half mumbled _"plastic fuckin' prick"_, and followed Hank out of the back alley.

"Lemme see that…" Viv reached up with one hand and caught his chin between her thumb and middle finger and tilted his head to one side so she could get a better look at the damage, at which Gavin grimaced and batted her hand away from his re-broken nose.

"Don't touch me," he mumbled like an embarrassed child as he moved away and gingerly held his throbbing cheek.

"Looks broken," she concluded as she pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to him, which he begrudgingly accepted. "Find a doctor, get yourself cleaned up, and meet us in interrogation as soon as you're done."

"Thanks, _mom_," he retorted sarcastically.

Lenore had started to walk away but quickly turned on heel the moment the words left his mouth and whipped a pointed finger and a disgusted scowl in his direction "Don't _ever _call me that again."

* * *

**November 11th, 2038- 5 PM **

"I'm gonna ask you one more time…" Hank sighed heavily and pressed his fingers into the inside corners of his eyes in frustration as Viv slowly paced the room behind him with her arms crossed. "_Why _did you run away?"

The deviant across the table kept his gaze fixed on the dead space over his shoulder and didn't answer.

"What's with the drawings in your journal? _Why _is it encrypted?"

More silence, though this time he turned his head to the right side of the room and stared at the wall as if it was the most interesting thing he'd seen all day.

"Who's RA9?"

Finally, the android responded, but not in the way he'd been holding out for. Rupert lifted angry brown eyes to lock onto his and replied in a serious tone, "You won't get anything out of me, so you might as well give up."

From behind him Viv sighed, uncrossed her arms and turned to look at the android. "We're just trying to understand-"

"_Understand_…? Don't you get it? You're human, so you'll _never _understand," he chuckled with an ironic grin as he slumped down into his chair and cast a sideways leer into the two-way glass to his left. "So just spare me the platitude and don't even try. If you're gonna kill me for deviating, just get it over with already."

"Kill you?" she parroted with a surprised look. "You stole some money and bought a fake ID, the boys will just wipe you and send you back to the farm-"

Rupert's tone changed from hostile to pleading in a split-second and his head whipped around to reveal the terror in his eyes. "No, _please_! Don't send me back there!"

Hank and Viv exchanged surprised glances that quietly agreed they had finally pushed the right button.

"Why not?" he squinted suspiciously. "What are you afraid of?"

Rupert paused and glanced over his shoulder at Connor, who had been standing in the corner of the room quietly assessing every part of the conversation from word choice to changes in tone and shifts in body language, and trailed his eyes across the floor back to the table when he received no response.

After several moments of silence, Viv tried again. "Rupert… why did you leave?"

"Please," Connor interrupted in a semi-pleading tone as he regretfully remembered having to prod the memory of Carlos Ortiz' android when it refused to talk to them. "Just answer the question so _I _don't have to extract the answer _for them_."

The color drained out of Rupert's face and he swallowed hard as he processed the threat, then shifted uncomfortably, closed his eyes, and leaned over the table on his elbows, closing one hand over the other in a cradled fist as he forced himself to recall what he'd been trying desperately to leave behind.

"I saw-…" The words caught in his throat the very moment he started talking, but he reached for his neck and stroked at it to gently coax out the rest of the story. "…one of the human farmers attacked one of the other androids… just-" A wetness glassed over his eyes and his lips drew painfully tight as his chin and lower lip trembled, and his hand smoothed up over his mouth in horror. "_Pushed him_ in front of a harvester and ran him over like it was _nothing_," he sputtered just above a whisper.

Hank's expression softened and he lowered his eyes while Viv placed a hand on the boy's shoulder and gave it a soft, sympathetic squeeze.

"He _killed him_, just like that…" he explained weakly and looked back up at the Lieutenant as his brows knitted together. "And I was scared that _I might be next_."

The admission of fear caught the android detective's attention, and he took a few slow steps across the room as he flipped a quarter over the tops of his knuckles, still watching him like a hawk.

"So you ran away, got yourself some false papers, and decided to just start a new life?" Hank leaned back in his chair and glanced at Viv as she picked the false ID up off the table and turned it over, examining it closely.

"It's not a bad plan," she admitted as she handed it to him for inspection. "I mean, look at this. He _had _to have reached out to _someone _to get ahold of an ID this convincing."

Connor's eyes snapped over to the deviant, who shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clenched his teeth and flexed his jaw. The boy's curled lip was enough to tell him that he'd slipped up somewhere, so he pressed his luck.

"That pawn shop was directly across town from the apartment you've been squatting in… so why did you go _there_?"

Hank and Viv threw Connor a perplexed look as if his question had come out of left field, but as they considered it, they realized he was right. What was so special about that particular shop? And why had he stayed there so _long_?

The two of them looked across the table at Rupert, who had become visibly tense and sunk down into his seat even further and curled his lip at their android friend. Connor could just see his software destabilizing the longer they waited for an answer.

"Is the shop owner helping deviants?" he pressured. Even though Rupert clearly thought he was done answering questions, his silence and disdain had just given him all he needed to know anyway.

"Hey, Viv," Gavin's voice buzzed through on the intercom from behind the two-way glass, sounding nasalier than it had earlier in the day. "You got a phone call."

The interruption derailed her train of thought and she sighed as she leaned against the wall and threw her hands up in exasperation. "We've been at it for two hours, I don't think we're going to get anything more out of him right now."

"You're probably right," he conceded as he pushed out his chair and stood to his feet, then waved Chris in to take him out. "Alright, pal, back to your cell."

Rupert stood as Viv placed her hand on the palm-scan and waited patiently for the officer to unlock his cuffs from the table, then followed them out without a word. As Hank stepped out of the room, Connor sauntered up behind him and leaned over so they could quietly talk amongst themselves.

"I think we should follow up on that lead," he insisted, but instead of immediately agreeing, the Lieutenant groaned and cast him a tired look.

"_Tomorrow_," he whined, "It's already 5pm, and I just wanna go home."

"And do what… _drink_?" The android rolled his eyes and scolded him as he popped his brows.

"Connor, we've been goin' at this case non-stop for a couple weeks now, I just need a break," he pleaded.

"Fine, then I guess I'll do it myself."

The cell door opened with a quiet whooshing sound and Lieutenant Anderson sighed deeply as he ushered the deviant android into the room. "You know you can't go around questioning people without me-"

"Then I guess you're just going to have to come with me, because I'm going with or without you."

Hank turned and scrunched his face into an annoyed scowl and shook his head. "You just don't know how to sit and be idle, do you?"

"Of course I do, it's called standby."

"Then why don't you give it a try sometime?" he growled as he moved past his smirking partner and looped around to snag his keys, coat, and cell phone off of his desk, then yelled over his shoulder at Connor when he hadn't yet followed.

"You comin' or what!?"

* * *

**November 11th, 2038 - 5:30PM **

When they returned nearly two and a half hours later, the store was still a mess. The coat rack that had taken out Hank was back in its place, but the toaster (_which had broken on impact when it hit Connor's head_), sat in pieces on the countertop in front of the destroyed grandfather clock. The shopkeeper — a young man with short dark hair and pale gray-blue eyes — glanced up at them amidst picking up the box of books strewn across the floor and away from a dark-haired woman (_with whom he'd been conversing with quite seriously_) and scowled in recognition.

"Go on, I can handle this," he assured with a whisper, to which she nodded and nervously eyed the Android and his partner before heading up the stairs. Connor's eyes followed her and he squinted curiously as Lieutenant Anderson entered the shop behind him and approached the counter.

"Have you come to pay for the damages to my merchandise?" the boy questioned in bitter resentment.

"The insurance will pay for that," Hank waved in a dismissive tone.

"They'll pay what they want, not what it's worth," he retorted as he picked up a stack of books and set them down on the glass countertop of the display case with a sigh. "Why are you here?"

"Well, ah-"

"_Damien_."

"_Damien_," the cop turned and gestured to the Android detective, who had turned his attention to the shopkeeper and was studying him carefully. "My partner just has a few questions for you about the man we took into custody earlier."

The muscles in the man's neck tensed and he clenched his teeth as he threw Connor a defensive look, but forced an awkward smile and asked, "What do you need to know?"

Connor's attention zeroed in on Damien as he lowered his gaze and pressed his brows together. He was suspicious earlier when he first saw the man but didn't have the time to run a facial recognition check at the time, but now that he was able to get a good look without having to avoid flying books and appliances, he quickly identified the model and serial number of the deviant-in-disguise. For the time being, he kept this information to himself. If this deviant was helping other deviants, then he might come in useful later in tracking them more easily.

"Well?" Damien craned his neck and raised his brows as he waited for him to start.

_But then again, if he were pressured just right, he might lead them right to them._

"Are you cold?" he asked with a sly quirk in his voice.

The man blinked hard and shook his head, dumbstruck by his off-the-wall question. "I'm sorry- am I _cold_?"

"It's 75 degrees in here, so I just don't see why you'd need to wear a beanie."

He didn't miss the look of panic that flashed in his eyes for a brief moment, but the deviant shrugged it off. "I just stepped out for a few minutes to take out the trash, and it was pretty cold out. Guess I just forgot to take it off."

Connor waited for nearly half a minute to see if he would reach to remove the hat, but when he didn't, he narrowed his eyes and paced in front of the counter. He could hear his thirium pump from where he was standing, beating at a frequency that indicated stress. He would have to lower the man's guard if he was going to get anything else useful out of him.

"The man we arrested today… has he been in here before?"

"Once or twice," he answered honestly, "To pawn some items for cash."

"What kind of items?"

"A television, a laptop, a watch… y'know, the usual tech people try to offload for a quick hundred bucks."

"Did he act suspiciously?"

Damien rolled his eyes and nearly laughed but stopped himself so he could answer the question. "You're kiddin', right…? I work in a _pawn shop_, half the people that come through here are tweaked off their rocks and just lookin' to scratch the itch of their addiction."

"I don't think the deviant was trying to buy red ice."

The clerk blinked hard and feigned surprise as best he could, though his calmness gave him away. "That man was an android?"

"You don't seem too surprised," Connor noted in a way that told him he'd been expecting that sort of response.

"Well, he wouldn't be the first-"

Damien started to speak but cut himself off the second the first half of the sentence left his mouth. The quiver in his throat told the detective he was on the right track.

"Do you get many deviants coming through here?" he pressed as Damien nervously glanced to Hank before looking back at him and shifting his weight.

"Once or twice, just looking for some help…"

"What _kind _of help?" he questioned in a louder tone without a moment's hesitation, at which the man took a half-step away from the counter.

"Just lookin' for clothes and a place to stay-"

"And did you help them?" he followed, his tone rising again.

Damien threw up his hands and huffed as he gestured around the room. "Does this look like a charity!? I'm trying to run a business!"

But Connor was losing his patience with his indirect responses. Both hands flattened against the glass case as he leaned over and nearly shouted. "Have you harbored deviants in the past- _yes or no_?"

"No!" he cried as if to convince not only Connor but also himself. The man's eyes glossed over and he scowled angrily as he leaned over the countertop. "I haven't helped any _fucking deviants_," he sneered as he shoved him back with both hands. "Now if you'd _please_, unless you want to do it yourself, I still have a mess to clean up and insurance claims to fill out."

Hank sighed as he put one hand on Connor's shoulder and turned him away from the man gesturing them out the front door. "C'mon, kid, let's leave the man alone…"

"I just have one more question," he insisted as the Lieutenant pulled him a few steps out of his personal space, which made the deviant relax and then tense all over. "Do you run this shop on your own?"

Damien's eye twitched and he looked away as he stroked at his nose and mouth with one hand and placed the other on his hip. "The owner Galen fell ill a few months ago and left me in charge," he admitted with a solemn expression.

"And the woman who was in here when we came in?" he asked as he nodded toward the stairs.

The man's lips drew tight in anger before he responded. "_His daughter_," he explained, stiff but swift in his reply as if it were rehearsed. "She stops by to check on the business a few times a week for him, but she doesn't work here."

"Thank you for your time, we won't bother you anymore," Hank apologized as he pulled his partner out of the store with him.

* * *

When the door closed with a final click and their shapes had moved away from the glass door, Damien bolted and thundered up the stairs, which drew Sarah's attention from putting together a disassembled AR-15, and their eyes locked the instant he reached the second floor.

"Dee?" she asked in a fearful tone as she turned in her chair and set the weapon down carefully as he bent over and placed both hands on her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"_H- he-_heeeee knows, we've been compromised," he stuttered out, shaken to his core.

Sarah turned pale and she grabbed at his forearms with both hands to keep herself from falling backward out of her chair. "What do you mean he _knows_, how can he possibly know-"

The man shook his head vigorously and shushed her as he waved a hand through the air. "I don't know, Rupert must have said something."

"No," she insisted, "No he would never give us up, he'd die before he hurt the cause-"

"Well, then, maybe he just put the pieces together on his own, either way, we gotta get to ground and get all this shit _out of the shop _before they come back with a warrant."

Sarah's green eyes finally tore away from him to look around the room and take inventory of the weapons they'd managed to stockpile. Damien was right, they were lucky the police had been in the shop twice now and not asked to check upstairs. If they came back with a warrant, they were in trouble.

"Then you have to disappear, too," her voice cracked and she swallowed as the reality settled in. "I'll get in touch with North and have her help me clean house, but you gotta lock up and go _now_."

"I can't," he disagreed. "If I start acting strange, they'll know we're hiding something. I have to go about business as usual, you just take care to make sure no one sees what you're moving. Back the van right up to the side door and take the back alley when you leave, just in case someone's watchin' the shop."

"Okay," she agreed reluctantly, "I don't like the idea of you being our decoy, but the second we're finished, I'm coming back for you, do you understand?"

His chest quivered and he closed his eyes contentedly as she placed one hand over his heart, threaded their fingers and squeezed as the skin on their hands deactivated locally. "I know you'd rather die than leave me behind," he confirmed with a quiet smile as she stood and embraced him.

"Just don't do anything stupid," she replied in a desperate whisper.

"I won't," he promised, wrapping his arms around her in a needy hug and burying his face in her shoulder. "I won't…"

* * *

Connor tore his gaze from the door of the pawn shop as he followed Hank across the street and chewed on his options for now. It was entirely possible that they had just stumbled upon a thread in a very large network of deviants running an underground railroad, but without a warrant they wouldn't be able to get in search the place before everything was gone.

"You get anything helpful outta all that?" Hank finally asked as he fumbled with the lock on his car.

"Well, for starters, that man is an android," he answered, very matter-of-fact, "Maybe even a deviant."

"What!?" The Lieutenant's head whipped around and he cursed in surprise as he nearly keyed his car. 'You sure?"

"I have a positive ID on his model and serial number, though there aren't any open cases matching it," he replied slowly as he searched for more information. "I can confirm his story about the shop owner falling ill- Galen Moore was admitted to Detroit General's Oncology wing on August 11th of this year, but I'm _positive _he's lying about not helping deviants."

"Well, _shit_." Hank exhaled as he turned and leaned with his back against the car to stare across the street at the storefront, and crossed his arms. "Well, we can't raid the place without a search warrant, and it'll take a little bit of time to process… I'll start the paperwork before I go home tonight and we can try again tomorrow."

Connor shook his head and stretched his cheeks into an exasperated grin. "No, we don't have time to waste- _they're already suspicious_, if they're hiding something it'll be gone by then," he insisted.

"Yeah, I guess you're right," he agreed as he clenched his teeth and gestured to the android. "You stay here and keep an eye on the place, make sure they don't leave, and I'll work on getting it expedited."

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but I have somewhere I need to be," he apologized as he lowered his head.

"What…? Where you goin' that's so important? You got a hot date or somethin'?"

"I'm afraid I can't say," he shrugged as he lifted his chin and replied with a coy grin, "But perhaps you could ask Detective Reed for assistance on this."

"Oh, yeah, _sure_, he'll _love _that." Hank rolled his eyes as he tossed Connor his cell phone, which he caught awkwardly and slipped into his coat's pocket.

"Keep it on ya, and I'll call you when we get the green light," he waved as he popped open his car door and sat down. "And don't be late."

"I'll do my best."

Once he'd closed the door and was distracted enough with trying to get in touch with Fowler, Connor turned up the street and disappeared around the corner, not realizing that he was heading toward the train station at almost a full sprint. It was unlikely that she'd be willing to speak of her knowledge of other deviants or their activities, but he had to try.

Two fingers lifted to the LED on his temple, and he blinked rapidly as the message rang out over her frequency.

_Kate… Can we meet?_


End file.
